


All's Fair in Blood and Gore

by Lunalesque



Category: Ratchet & Clank
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, F/M, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28109901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunalesque/pseuds/Lunalesque
Summary: Everybody ready? Everybody set? Then come witness the events at the Big Dome of Effective Entertainment! They're thrilling, lively, and oddly, not death defying! Or so they seem.
Relationships: Talwyn Apogee/Ratchet
Kudos: 2





	1. All's Fair in Blood and Gore Prologue

Prologue: Just Another Manic Monday

Once upon a time, Clank was reading on the virtues of technical horology. The afternoon couldn't have been better.

THUD!

Then, something crashed onto their roof hard enough to knock paintings off the walls and crack the ceiling foundations. It shocked Clank quite thoroughly, and he almost fell off the couch. He tensed, looking upwards with wide eyes.

"Ratchet, you…heard that too, correct?" asked Clank, eyeing their unsteady ceiling fan. He looked over to the couch perpendicular to his.

His best friend was asleep, which was peculiar since Ratchet had been awake six minutes ago. Now he was passed out, one arm hanging off the side of the couch, remote settled in hand. The holo-vid was still on from where he had been watching cartoons.

Clank was annoyed. So annoyed, he failed to hear the heavy footfalls traveling across their roof. He set his book aside and slid off the couch, muttering, "How many times have I told him to turn off that holo-vid before he sleeps…?"

However, he hadn't quite made it to the door when a large green fist punched in from the outside. It fumbled around a few seconds before finding the doorknob and then unlocked the door.

"Da-viiid!" Qwark took the door off its hinges as he let himself into their apartment. "I'm ho-oome!"

Clank was prepared to scold him for the property damage, but he was distracted by Qwark's appearance. Even though he was in a business suit, Qwark looked anything but professional. He looked like he had lived in his mother's basement for years and had finally come up for air. He was mousy, disheveled, and there were hideous shadows under his eyes.

"Qwark, are you alright?" asked Clank, concerned. "You seem a bit at ends…or a lot, rather."

"Of course I'm at ends, Clank. I do my stretches every morning." Qwark set their door back into place then noticed Ratchet on the couch, who had finally began stirring at all the noise.

When Ratchet opened his eyes, he saw Qwark's face hovering over his—eyes bloodshot, and wearing a wide, manic grin. It was like waking up to a nightmare. Ratchet let out a scream of terror.

"YES!" Qwark yelled back, holding his arms out. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you too, Ratchet!"

Ratchet avoided Qwark's hug, quickly moving to the other side of the couch. "What the heck, dude?! What have I told you about watching me in my sleep?"

"Oh, I couldn't be bothered to remember," Qwark answered truthfully. "Besides, I keep more important things to remember in my brain. I mean, there's limited space in there, let's be real."

"Qwark, why are you here—" Ratchet then noticed the door, staring for several long moments. "…uh, I didn't do that, did I?"

"No, that was all me! I've been searching for you guys the whole morning! You wouldn't believe what I've been through," Qwark rolled his eyes, leaning his head to the side. "I mean, first I had to go ahead and forget where you guys lived…"

"How—" began Ratchet.

"I had to try to ask around for directions. I went to an old folk's home, a hospital," Qwark counted off on his fingers, "then a library, and the police station around the corner! Can you believe the cops kicked me out for causing a ruckus? I mean, you'd break down if you couldn't find your friends. But! Thankfully, I ran into a good Samaritan who gave me a lift to your cheap apartment! Humble guy, really—too bad I missed his name."

"Sounds to me you've been tormenting people the entire morning, including us," said Ratchet. "Qwark…are you okay? You look like you just murdered someone but don't know how to feel about it."

"That's oddly specific," said Qwark. "What was I saying?"

Clank shut his eyes, rubbing at his face. "…you were looking for us and got lost?"

"Oh. Yes. One moment."

Qwark's eyes glazed over as his brain processed what he had to do next. It was clearly difficult and his face distorted into an ugly grimace as he thought. Ratchet snorted, making Clank shake his head at him in disapproval.

"…oh, there we go!" Qwark announced proudly, tapping the side of his head. "I had to rummage around the think tank for a minute."

He pulled out a flyer from his coat pocket and handed it to Clank, who began reading it aloud. "Congratulations, you have been selected for the Big DEE events…"

"…where only the most ambiguously rational may apply!"

The holo-vid was abuzz, showing a view of a large, vaguely dome shaped structure in space. A familiar face popped up in the picture, with a grin that gleamed like the stars. "I'm your host, Dallas Wannamaker, and boy do I have a story for you!"

He held his arms out to the side as a different view of the dome came up. "This is the newly built, all fancy Dome of Effective Entertainment! Big enough to hold a city, annnd city events! It's big! It's girthy! Folks, it'll have everything you need! It's a whole new world out there! It's the Big DEE!

"But wait, there's more! Here, at the Big DEE, a series of events will be held! They will mark a new turn in the entertainment industry." Dallas leaned towards the screen in a manner of conspiracy, adding, "According to the Director, that is. These events are designed to be all fun, all entertaining to those participating and those watching!

"And WHO'S participating?! Why, only the best—just kidding! It'll be those who have grit! Those who don't mind the leniency of the rules, those who LOVE the lack of firm liability! Enter at your own risk, 'cause I ain't paying for the hospital bill, ha ha ha…!

"Folks, these are the events at the Big DEE! Check it out and sign up for a reservation—or else you'll get yours taken!"

The commercial ended.

"Well, what a convenient time for that to air," said Clank.

"You mean you've never seen it before?" asked Qwark, shocked. "Not with all the publicity and advertising it's been getting here? Even Sasha helped sponsor the events!"

"Oh, really," said Ratchet. "Well, we've uh, been kinda to ourselves for a while."

"It could also have something to do with you watching more cartoons than the news lately," said Clank.

"There's probably a ton other important news you missed, then!" Qwark exclaimed. "Did you hear about me buying my third star cruiser? No? What about Skrunch getting his PhD in astrophysics and minoring in child care management? Ooh ooh, did you hear about Stuart Zurgo breaking out of house arrest—"

"Oh yeah, and he accidentally flew into a star trying to escape law enforcement," Ratchet said, then chuckled a bit. "Yeah, heh, we heard about that one…so what, you came here to give us a personal invite to those events?"

"Yeah! For a while now, I've been extending invitations to dozens of other potential candidates across three separate galaxies!" said Qwark. "I ended up way behind schedule…can you believe the time?"

He showed them his wrist. On it was a drawn on watch that had ten hands and nothing but zeros on its face.

"Well, you being so busy explains why you look…the…way you do," Clank chose his words carefully. Qwark was clearly unstable, and a bit too big for their apartment. One wrong word and their entire living room would be reduced to a smoldering pile of ash.

"It's no big deal," said Qwark stupidly, smiling. Now they knew he was delirious. "And you guys are the last stop, anyway. There was this WHOLE HOOPLA about asking you to come."

"Why?"

"Beats me, I wasn't paying attention during the meeting with the other event staff," said Qwark. "I did come around to the Director deciding to invite you both. And to that I agreed! So, I skeeted over here as fast as possible. Got a little off track, but I made it, didn't I? Aren't I dedicated?"

Qwark stuck his chest out, looking pleased with himself. Ratchet did a poor job at hiding his laugh behind a cough. "Yeah. You're, uh, something else, alright."

"I appreciate the sentiment, James. So, what do you guys think?"

Ratchet tightened his muzzle and shot a look at Clank, whose expression was that of hesitance. Of course, they both knew that anything Qwark was a part of was likely disastrous at best.

"Your tenacity is appreciated, Qwark," said Clank finally. "But I—"

"Now, Clank," said Qwark warmly, "You know I always want the best for you two."

"Yes…I have a question, however. What do you have to do with the events, Qwark? Are you a highly paid spokesman?"

"Or," Ratchet added, "are ya clout chasing again?"

They didn't know if Qwark's reaction was more startling or sudden—he immediately burst like a dam, tears flooding out of his eyes like water spouts. He scooped them up, bringing them close so their faces touched. "NOOOO!" he wailed.

"What question were you answering?" asked Clank.

"Couldn't have been mine," said Ratchet.

"Oh, stop Ratchet…"

"I'm just the event supervisor! Someone else was already chosen to be the spokesman!" cried Qwark. Then his face exploded with manic rage. Ratchet and Clank feared for their lives.

Qwark stood up, dangling his friends from his arms. "People can just butt in where they don't belong 'cause they have money and some charisma! I have all five of those things, and THEN some! Now I can't represent you sorry sacks the way I want to!"

He abruptly turned passive. "Being you guys' ward is a self-reflective journey I've put myself on," he said calmly.

"That is…considerate of you?" said Clank.

Qwark carelessly dropped them, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders.

"Yes, it is. And you know what? I've got to try to keep my head up for you plebeians. I've got better things to do than mope around. It's time to take further action, Qwark-style!"

He turned towards the wall, then ran at it yelling, "Oh, yeah!" He crashed through like it was made of chalk, leaving a plume of dust, rubble, and drywall in his wake. When it cleared, there was a Qwark-shaped hole in their living room wall. Ratchet and Clank came to gaze out the opening.

Qwark ran and jumped off the edge of the apartment grounds—they were on the top floor—and fell all the way down into the traffic of ships. He landed on the hood of a police cruiser, badly startling the rookie inside.

"Hi, officer!" Qwark yelled, pressing his face into the windshield. "Can you give me an escort? This is an important matter!"

Over the noise of horns and police sirens, Clank turned and looked at Ratchet.

"Oh boy, what'd I do?" asked Ratchet.

"Clout chasing? Really, Ratchet? That was what set him off!"

"How was I supposed to know he'd snap and run through a wall?"

Clank tilted his head to the side, lowering his eyelids. They had to spend the rest of the day repairing the wall—and the front door.

"There…"

By the time they were done, darkness had long settled over Metropolis. Ratchet stepped back from the wall he had finished painting over.

"Big oaf…" Ratchet muttered, dropping the brush into the can of paint. "Just what we need, property damage that isn't even caused by me…"

He kicked the can, making it slide along the floor. No sooner than it had hit the wall, Clank spoke. "Ratchet, do not kick the paint can. If it tips over that will be another mess we have to clean up!"

Clank walked out from behind the couch, holding a broom and dustpan. "I just finished getting up all of the dust and nonsense he left behind. It went everywhere. Absolutely ridiculous!"

"Well, what do you think?"

"I am almost finished. I am not pleased with the amount of fur I found back there, either."

"No, I'm not talking about…just stop nagging for a moment, will you? I'm talking about those events."

Clank had been so sullen and quiet during the cleanup he had never brought the topic up.

"Oh. Well," Clank emptied the dustpan in the trash. "It seems interesting."

"Sounds like it could be fun, right?"

"Your definition of fun varies from my own, but I suppose."

"And hey…didn't he mention Sasha helped sponsor the events?" said Ratchet. "Last time I checked, she wasn't too big on sports."

"Yes, and if she were to support anything, I would think it is very well regulated. Perhaps the events will not be as extreme as they were advertised…"

"Spoilsport," said Ratchet, crossing his arms.

"You Type As are something else," Clank said, grinning. "I am curious to know who the Director of the events are. I would imagine anyone who could do something like this must be wealthy and resourceful."

"Yeah, and good news is that Qwark doesn't seem to have a lot of influence here," said Ratchet. "If he's crying about his position, then that means it probably limits his stupidity."

The wall exploded over Ratchet, knocking him to the ground. Clank narrowed his eyes at the figure lurching into their living room. "Qwark!" he said fiercely.

"Hey, Clank! Bet you thought I'd left you hanging, eh?" said Qwark, dusting himself off. He didn't look any more rested than he had earlier.

Ratchet's hand seized the end of Qwark's tie and yanked hard, forcing his head down. The Lombax rose up from the pile of rubble he'd been buried under until he was eye level with Qwark, bristling.

"You are asking for it!" Ratchet snarled. "Qwark…use. The. DOOR. Not the wall! If you do that again, I'll pound you!"

Qwark looked hopeful. "You will?"

After a slightly awkward pause, Clank threw up his hands, scowling. "Oh, what did you have for us, Qwark?!"

"Yes, right! Since you accepted entry to the games—"

"Technically, we didn't. You screwed off before we could even answer," said Ratchet, releasing Qwark's tie so it snapped back into his face.

"…but…but you HAVE to come!" Qwark exclaimed. "You're COMING, right? I won't be able to sleep at night knowing you're not there! Please, please, please, come come come, PLEASE…"

"Enough!" Clank scolded, raising his voice. "I do not have an issue with coming!"

"Me neither, it's official from the both of us," said Ratchet. "There, now please stop whining."

Qwark dried up faster than a prostitute in rehab. "Oh, that makes Qwark happy! Now we can continue! Ahem...now, you're ready for your invitations to the extra super special and fancy banquet the Director is hosting for all of his future competitors. Formal events bring us all together, you know."

"Not really," said Ratchet, dreading the news a bit. He had launched his last and only suit into a volcano and was annoyed he had to get a new one.

Qwark dug in his pocket, adding, "Oh, another thing. You have until up to two weeks before the events begin to settle on a name, but start thinking of what to call your team-pair. Something you'll be proud of, something that'll speak for itself! I recommend Team Qwark."

"Absolutely not." Clank said, making Ratchet erupt into laughter. Then, so Qwark wouldn't get sad and break something else, he added, "I mean, no thank you. We…will think of one, Qwark."

Chuckling, Ratchet waved a hand. "Ahhh, it's no big deal. What's important is how we'll be cruising through those events like they're nothing. We have all the—"

"That's a good one! Team Cruise!" Qwark said loudly. "Perfect for two rough and tumble people like you! Let me write that down, using the pencil and paper…of my mind."

He squinted for several seconds; a dim smile slowly grew on his face.

"Qwark, you're starting to scare us," said Ratchet.

"Starting?" Clank questioned, then looked at Qwark. "You clearly need rest. Give us the banquet invitation. And can you at least tell us the name of the Director?"

"Oh, sure. It's…Gooouughhh...?"

Qwark trailed off, going slack in the face. "…you know...I can't really remember right now," he said blankly.

With a groan Ratchet smacked his face, pulling down until the pink of his eyelids showed.

"Never mind, Qwark," Clank deadpanned, holding out his hand.

"I want a hug," said Qwark, pulling the invitation from his pocket and flinging it to Clank. "Like, really. I don't get enough of them. Ratchet, can I stroke you?"

"No."

"Not even gently?"

"That's even worse."

Clank caught the invitation. "When Ratchet says no, he means yes."

"WHAT! Don't teach him things like that!" Ratchet exclaimed. "…Qwark, let go of my tail!"

Clank ignored them for a moment. The invite sported a snapshot of a fancy, smart-looking building. Superimposed in front of it was a short message:

Greetings! We're pleased to see you've chosen to participate in our events!  
At the banquet, we would like to get you familiarized with others who are like minded like you, and to give everyone a chance to offer their thoughts and questions to the event staff! It will be a pleasure seeing you there!

The Director, Guzman

"Alright," Clank muttered, barely glancing at the directions as he flipped the card over. There he saw a list of names.

Guzman V…...Director

Ophelia T…...Event Manager

Karen M…...Event Spokesman

Copernicus Q…...Event Supervisor

"Ratchet, please don't hide from me," Qwark whined.

Clank looked up. Ratchet had wedged himself behind one of the couches, ducking well out of Qwark's reach. Clank could easily see their furniture being hurtled through a wall within the next few seconds and intervened quickly. "Qwark, the Director has specific qualifications, yes?"

"Huh? Oh, I guess," said Qwark. "He's not a fussy kind of guy. Sort of timid, really. I'd say he wants folk that'll help promote his brand and look good while doing it. You both look good doing a lot of things, just letting you know."

"That is very kind. But…please, stop harassing Ratchet and leave. You can always bother him later."

Ratchet poked his head out from behind the couch. "Oh, you are so gonna get it."

"I will be concerned later," Clank decided. "Qwark, should we call Skrunch to come pick you up?"

"No, I'm a grown independent adult who don't need no monkey," said Qwark.

"Then scram. And…don't hurt yourself, okay?" said Ratchet. "…come on, skeet. Uh, I mean, scoot. I'm not moving until you leave."

"Okay," said Qwark. Then he passed out and fell to the floor with an awful thud. A moment later they heard their downstairs neighbors yelling furiously, pounding their ceiling with what sounded like the end of a broomstick.

Clank held his hands up to his head, looking faint. "Oh, my goodness…" he said weakly.

"That was great," said Ratchet, pulling himself out from behind the couch. "Whelp, time for tarp and staples. I'm not spending the entire night repairing that wall again."

"What do we do about him?" asked Clank, motioning to Qwark lying prone on the floor.

"Just throw a blanket over him."

"What if he suffocates?"

"Oh, well."

"Ratchet!"

"Alright, we'll flip him over first! Yeah, I said we—I'm not doing this by myself! He spent the last of his energy messing with me. Wonder how THAT happened?"

"Heh heh...now who is the one nagging?"

Clank tossed the invitation on the table, its bright letters gleaming in blissful ignorance…


	2. Chapter 0.1: Ignorance is Bliss

Chapter 0.1: Ignorance is Bliss

"Ratchet, I told you we should have stopped and asked for directions!"

"Ratchet, I told you we should've…" I mock him, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it already, stop harping. We're here."

We were a tad bit late to the banquet—well, Clank's version of late, which is arriving thirty minutes before it actually starts.

Okay, it was my fault for losing the invitation and not completely memorizing the directions to the location.

And, it's pretty simple to get lost in a megacity that spans forty five percent of the entire planet.

Then I guess there was also me not fixing Aphelion's guiding system…

But hey, we made it!

Clank doesn't share my attitude, and I can feel him glaring at the side of my head. I'm wise to avoid eye contact; it'd be like staring at a rabid War Grok.

"We are not in time," he finally says. "Oh my goodness, what was I thinking, letting you have the directions? Why did I never memorize them? How could you have lost them the MORNING we needed them?"

I tune him out, my focus now on the building we were coming down over. It fits well with Metropolis' general style, but bears a little more exuberance with its design. It reflects a certain regality; the light of the afternoon sun highlights its high rising roof, smooth stone walls, and quality finish.

The parking lot is sprawling, and encloses the massive building on all four sides. There are signs hovering in the airspace, directing guests to the parking around the building.

"Ratchet, what is that in your pants?" Clank asks forcefully.

"Why were you looking in the first place?" I ask, altering our flight path. "Y'know? Could be my left leg, could be my right leg, or it could also be—" Clank grabs at the lump in my pocket, feeling on it. My knee jumps a bit. "—hey! Watch it, will you?"

"Is this a concealed weapon?"

"Uh, yeah. Don't act like you didn't come with the idea that things could get…...uh oh."

"What now?"

I've come around the south side of the building. There are no ships parked around here. Not only that, there's a crowd clustered around the entrance down below. Some of them have cameras. With my trained eye, I can say that they're reporters in their natural state of mind—foaming at the mouth, clawing at each other, their voices shrill like a harpy's.

They jostle and push each other, simultaneously harassing two people in uniforms that are stopping them from going through the door. That has to be security, and somehow they're just able to keep the crowd from entering the building.

"Look at that!" Clank exclaims. "If we had left on time, knew where we were going, and been here an hour before the banquet started, we could have made it past that nonsense! But of course, I suppose this is my fault as well for not taking responsibility and—"

I blow a raspberry, cutting him off. "Hold the lecture, Nagbot. Security's coming."

Clank probably shoots me another murderous look, but I ignore that one too. A hovercraft comes up from behind and flanks Aphelion.

"Good day! Or, good evening, really," says the guard when I open the cockpit. Her emerald uniform glitters in the sun. Her security badge reveals the company she works for—Z United Security Services.

"Evening," I say. "Uh, could you maybe tell us where we're supposed to go?"

"Sure, in a moment. Just hold still for a sec, please."

She picks up a device that's vaguely blaster shaped, pointing it at us. I tense instinctively and she lowers it after a moment.

"Sorry, maybe I should've said…this is just something to confirm your identities."

She holds it up again, slower; this time I can see there's a lens on the front of it and relax. A moment later it flashes, momentarily blinding us. By the time I blink the lights out of my eyes she's peering at its small screen, her tongue between her teeth.

"…annnd, alright! It's a match for both the DNA profile and serial number on file. Just in case, you know," she puts away the ID gun, "you're someone using a holo-guise. Folks'll disguise themselves to get in a place like this."

A loud pop from the crowd and startled screams makes us glance down quickly. It sounded like someone had set off a firecracker as a diversion. The crowd had scattered for a few brief seconds; now it reforms and begins swarming the doors again.

"Ridiculous," says Clank.

"Oh, for sure," says the guard, cruising around Aphelion's nose. "They're clearly not supposed to be here, but someone made them think so. Guest parking was here in this lot before they showed up, but we've been redirecting you guys to a safer side of the building—"

An angry yell comes up from the crowd. "What'd you say about my mother, jackass?"

"Which I should show you right now, follow me please?" the guard says quickly, flying off. I follow her around towards the west side. Several lengths of metal fences yards high have been erected, blocking this section from the rest of the parking lot.

Guest parking and employee parking are sectioned off by rope barriers; my eyes immediately fall on the long, angular ship parked in the guest section. It's a beast, and by far the biggest vessel there. Who drove that?

When I park the guard lands next to us. "Okay, that there door's unlocked for you already. Go down the hall, and you'll come into the foyer. Keep going straight past it and up the staircase and you'll eventually reach the ballroom on the east side."

"Yes, thank you very much," says Clank, then as I unbuckle my seatbelt and begin to get up he adds, "Careful how you get out! You might wrinkle your tuxedo. Also, straighten your tie."

He was in prime form today. I carelessly adjust myself, glancing over to the guard with a sigh. "He's always like this," I say in false distress. She giggles, taking off into the air.

Clank practically drags me up the stairs and into the building. For someone so small he's surprisingly strong.

When we enter, even the air feels rich and crisp. The ceiling, decorated with countless glittering chandeliers, is vast, and the halls are wide, creating a nice feeling of openness.

The floor is of marble, which reflects us slightly. The walls are easy on the eyes, forest colored, bringing the color of the guards' uniforms to mind. The rugs are the same color, their edges patterned with gilded stripes.

I honestly want to take in the whole place a bit more, but Clank pulls me along in a hurry. We reach the foyer. The walls here are lined with the portraits of those who seemed to be notable social climbers of Metropolis. Margo Meno, Tybit C.H. Titsler, Ruddy Springer…

And in the middle, carved out of what's unmistakably diamond, is a large statue of a man, neatly dressed, holding a cylindrical tube in his hands. According to the plaque in front of the statue, it's of Jack Sock Squeezer, the original builder and owner of the building. The statue reflects light in a kaleidoscope of colors, and I can't help but to stop and gaze at it.

Clank giggles. "Ratchet?"

"Yeah?"

"I know it is pretty, but we must go. And, I would not try to touch it," he adds, roughly a second after the thought crossed my mind. "I assure you something that priceless is protected by an invisible energy field."

"Pfft, I didn't even wanna touch it. You're just finding reasons to nag," I say, just to pick on him.

"Hey, now!"

We look at the staircase ahead of us. On the second floor and coming up to the railing is Qwark, holding his arms out. Thankfully he looks better than he had the last time we saw him.

"Was that the voice of an angel I heard?" he exclaims, coming down the steps. "Well, hello there, Clank! So, what do you think of The High Squeezer?! As they say, 'Only people with a lot of cheese can afford bookings like these!'"

He tightens his tie as he approaches us. "So, where's Ratchet? Did he get himself stuck in the dryer again?"

Clank chuckles a little too hard at that. I wave a hand, speaking slowly. "I'm…right here, Qwark."

Qwark's eyes dart over, and he stares at me with a blank expression. Then he perks. "Oh, hey Ratchet! There you are! You…don't look like yourself…oh, wait! I know what it is, I didn't even see you at first without your hat thingy on!"

Clank made me take off my flight cap because it wasn't a part of formal wear. Not only does it make my head feel naked, it's apparently enough to make Qwark's brain malfunction and turn me invisible. I wonder about him sometimes.

Bang. The door bursts open at the end of the south corridor and we hear a some of the ruckus from outside slipping in, echoing dozens of feet down the hall.

"Hey, get back!" At the door, a guard fights with a particularly excited reporter, who flails his arms trying to get in.

"I heard! I heard, is it true Rover Ravenda is attending?!" the reporter asks, almost drooling in his excitement. "Please oh please you have to let me in!"

"For the last time, you're not allowed in, sir!" the guard says crossly, wrestling him back outside after a bit of a struggle.

As the doors shut I ask, "Who's…Rover Ravenda?"

Qwark doesn't answer for a moment, too busy tapping away at his personally patented Qphone. "What? Oh, Ravenda? Tch, well," he puts his phone up, crossing his arms. "Apparently he's some rising star of the sports world. At least on his own distant planet. He and his partner are participating at the games, so of course there's gonna be a bunch of groupies following them."

"Oh, you did not…" Clank begins.

"Invite them?" Qwark asks, pointing at the south doors. "Not me. Ravenda has an agent who's always trying to get people to pay attention to his star client, so I bet you HE did it! I don't have any proof, but...but...he DID do it, I bet!"

Qwark scowls, an expression that not only looks odd on his face, it's honestly intimidating. Then the south doors open again.

The second guard posted at the door pops in—her hair is wild, and so are her eyes. She starts cackling wildly, screaming, "Overworked, underpaid...I can't TAKE THIS anymore! This is INJUSTICE! Damn you, Kodiak!"

She exits the building, still laughing hysterically. Not long after the crowd outside goes from yelling in excitement to screaming in horror.

Qwark goes shifty eyed, turning to face the stairs. "C'mon, let's head on to the catering area, I don't want to bear witness to anything…"

"Why are there not more guards?" asks Clank, as we follow him up the stairs.

"Most of 'em in the company are at the Dome already," says Qwark carelessly. "That's why they're understaffed here! Not that it's our problem."

We pass windows that double as glass doors every several dozen feet, and they lead out onto spacious balconies. Noise starts to slip down the hall to us, picking up the closer we get to the banquet hall. At the entrance are two guards, standing motionless. When we get near enough they open the doors for us to pass.

Qwark tips an invisible hat at them both, saying, "Why thank you Mac, Alejandero! Here it is, guys!"

The tables and chairs are arranged before a stage. Along the east side of the room by the wide windows, stretching along the entire side of the wall, was a long table. There's numerous covered platters of different shapes and sizes lined up on it.

The room is bustling with waiters and waitresses, all of them intent on correcting the smallest of disparities or uncleanliness; I see a waitress creasing a part of a table cloth that had seemingly become too wrinkled. A waiter near us is bent over, using a minute broom and dustpan to sweep up something that his keen eyes had caught.

I snicker. "You'd be at home here, Clank."

"Oh hush, you!"

"Hey!" The shout comes from our right. A Thug is rushing to us, his gangly limbs going. He's amusingly lanky for his species, and his head looks a bit too big on his body. His tuxedo is loose on his frame.

Excited, he screeches to such a sudden halt his top hat tumbles off his head. I catch it before it hits the ground.

"Hey! Hey, aren't you Ratchet and Clank?" he asks, bouncing on the heels of his feet.

"Yeah, that's us," I say.

"WHOOAA! I can't believe we're in the same block! Dude, this is so COOL! Bro, get over here!" he yells over his shoulder, then looks at us again with wide eyes. "I heard you guys were coming, but I thought it was a joke!"

I chuckle a bit. "Ah, well, it's always a pleasure to meet a fan."

"What is so exciting?" another Thug joins us, his brother—and the difference between them is comical as it is drastic. He's massive, swollen with muscle and is bursting out of his suit. His arms are bare, and every visible part of him is scarred. His right eye is faded and dull, but it still manages to settle on us.

"Bro, look, look! These are the two I told you about!" says the first Thug. "See? It's Ratchet and Clank!" he leans towards us, adding, "He's so old fashioned, he's never heard of you two."

The big thug laughs, his broad shoulders shaking. "Too, too much talking! Does little brother bother you?"

"No…heh heh, not at all," says Clank. "May we know your names?"

"I, Thing Wun," says the muscled Thug. His brother throws an arm around him, adding, "I'm Thing, too! And that…"

He points at his hat, which I'd been holding upside down—and a thuggish head pops out. A pair of bunny ears rests on its head.

"Thing…uh, Three?" I venture.

"No, her name is Thing Tree," says Too proudly. "I named her myself!"

His brother shakes his head. "Is silly. Why she wear rabbit ears?"

Thing Tree growls slightly. She's wearing a floral print blouse and wears a bowtie behind her oversized eyes, which are just about struggling to focus on me.

"Here, I'll take 'er from you mate, before she gets fussy," says Too, taking his hat and plopping it on his head casually. I have questions, but maybe they're not worth asking.

"Oy, Qwark chin, why you look unhappy?" asks Thing Wun. "You said you have fun when friends here."

Qwark sneers, turning away. "Oh, it's nothing. I'm going to go get some fresh air before the proceedings start!"

Sounds like he was jealous since our attention wasn't on him anymore. He takes one step, getting in the way of a small robot who'd been speeding by on her little wings. She bumps into him, catching herself before she topples out the air.

"Ah, Qwark…?" She shakes her head, making her two antennae flop about. "Can you be care—"

Then she notices the rest of us standing there, doing a double take and gazing at Clank and I in shock.

"I know, Buz!" Too says excitedly.

She giggles then zooms off on her little wings. Qwark pouts and with his back hunched over, pushes out of the room. We hear him burst into sobs outside. I give Clank a concerned look. Was it me, or did Qwark still seem a bit off?

"Okay, we let kitty and robot sit," says Wun to his brother, who looked like he was ready to talk to us again. "Look, they are barely in door!"

"Oh…yeah, sorry about that…" says Too, looking a bit embarrassed. "We'll, heh, get out of your way."

And as soon as they part, I see someone I hadn't before.

"Yo, Skidd!"

He'd been talking on the phone, pausing when he hears me calling, and turns. "Whuh? Well, lookee who it is!" he says loudly, before wincing as screeching comes from the phone. "Okay, like, chill out, Mom. I promise you I'll help you find your longjohns later."

He hangs up, slapping his hand to mine. "Yo yourself, dude! I was totally expecting you."

"Yeah, but…not you!" I say, sitting down at the table. "Usually you don't do anything else but Hoverboarding."

"I thought I'd test the waters with other extreme sports," he says, looking pleased with himself. "When I got my invite, I was like, sure, dudes! I'm not afraid of stepping out of my comfort zone. Well, we aren't."

"Skidd, honey?"

We're joined by a woman, who's cradling one hand close to her body. "I totally just cut my finger really bad."

"Huh? On what?" asks Skidd.

"Oh…um…on a knife?"

I glance around. All the silverware's wrapped up neatly in napkins. There's also the lack of visible blood on her hand.

"Aw, let me see?" asks Skidd.

"I...don't think you'd want to see it, it's ugly," she says, then smiles sweetly. "Can I have some money to go to the doctor, sweetie?"

"Candy, babe, we just got here—isn't there like, a nurse here or…"

"It hurrrts!" she whines. I cringe as her voice shreds my eardrums. "Skidd, pleeease? I feel lightheaded…"

"O-Okay then." Skidd quickly reaches for his wallet and keys to his ship. "Do you remember how to work the guiding system? Try to uh, find a clinic near hear so you can get back and not miss anything."

"Oh, thanks, sweetie. You're the best."

She snatches the keys and wallet from his hand, then turns and sprints off so fast she sends several tables toppling over. "Ey, but be careful on the throttle! Don't wanna get the cops back here." Skidd calls after her, then says to me, "That was my girl, by the way. Also my partner for the events!"

She doesn't look back, almost mowing over a pair of Kerchu coming in. If you ask me, she seemed interested in things other than the banquet or the events.

For a moment I watch a few waiters lose their shit at the state of the tables she'd knocked over, then notice that Clank isn't with me.

I spot him over by the wall, speaking to the robot that had run into Qwark at the door. She's even smaller than she is, and whatever they're talking about has her round face lit up. My ears twitch at the sound of heavy footsteps.

"Hey, handsome."

I glance over, meeting the eyes—all three of them—of a Tyhrranoid plodding over. As it nears the table, I can pick up a faint tinge of smoke coming from it.

"Uh, hey yourself, dude," says Skidd.

"Nah…that wasn't directed at you, Green," it says, then tells me, "Yeah, you knew I was talking to you. Now I don't know how they'd let someone with a sweet face like yours in the competition…mind if I sit here?"

"Sure, go ahead," I say.

"Thanks," The Tyhrranoid sits heavily in a seat next to me. All of its eyes narrow at Skidd. "And I ain't no dude."

Well, tell me something. Skidd can't keep his shock off his face.

The Tyhrranoid sneers. "Yeah, the deep voice throws ya off, I bet. Plus, us 'noids ain't got sex differences. Visible ones, I mean. Usually someone could look for tits or a lack of 'em, eh?"

I snort a bit at her forwardness. "Would that happen to be your partner over there with mine?"

"Yeah. Her name's Buz. I can't say which one of 'em approached the other first." She looks me up and down, grinning. "Like I was saying…"

"Oh, I wouldn't go off appearance," I say frankly.

"Yeah, he's totally awesome," adds Skidd, slapping me on the back. "He murdered like, a ton of Tyhrranoids years ago—"

I clear my throat, giving him a pointed kick in the leg. She barks with laughter.

"I don't give a shit about that," she says.

"You…don't?" I ask, stunned.

"Nah. Ain't a fan of others of my kind, I like to keep my distance," she answers. "That sounds weird, don't it?"

"Well, if that's what you prefer," I say, shrugging.

"Hell, you got it. I been solitary for as long as I could be, outta my own personal choice. It ain't a desire of mine to be with my kind. What about you?" she looks at me suspiciously. "I ain't ever seen one of you before. Don't even know what you are."

"I'm a Lombax. Probably the only one you'll ever see," I say. "It's…not a priority to see others, but it is an interest of mine."

"Hmm," she shrugs. "Well, go for it, if ya want. Guess there's a natural inclination to be with others like ya, but in the end it's nothing to do stupid shit for."

I chortle a bit, trying not to look too guilty. I can tell she wasn't the type to mince words.

"RAUGH!" The Tyhrranoid roars at Skidd suddenly, raising her arms. He screams and almost jumps out of his tuxedo. With a wheezing laugh she slaps the table hard enough to make the silverware and glasses tremble. "Boy, what a crowd we got…"

The Thug brothers are over by the buffet table, laughing hysterically at something. The pair of Kerchu have sat in the table farthest from everyone else. One of them is abnormally small, and his eyes dart around the room sneakily. His partner looks grungy and even meaner, and I can hear him distinctly complaining to a nearby waitress about having to wait to eat.

"You know," the Tyhrranoid coughs before continuing, "this ain't my sort of thing. All this fancy stuff is ridiculous to me, and I'd rather not do it. Only came 'cause my partner wanted us to. I just signed up for the bone crushing and the spirit breaking."

Skidd's whimper is mostly drowned out by my reply. "Yeah, I can agree. Uh, with the aversion to formal events, I mean."

"No need to say it, I can tell—lookit, your tie's all crooked."

"Oops," I say, fixing it. "I guess the Director really wants to make a first impression."

"Screw that," she says with a grunt. "See, I'm used to rough business. Broke alotta rules, broke a few spines…things like that. I think the law's skipped over me plenty enough times."

She stares at me. "…you won't tell anyone that, will you?"

"Don't plan on it."

"Good," her eyes laser through me. "'Cause then I'd have to kill you."

I smirk. "I'd like to see you try."

For a moment we only stare at each other. Skidd has sunk down so low only the top of his head is seen. Then she bursts into laughter, taking my shoulder and shaking me slightly.

"I like you alright, young'un," she says. "So, what do you go by?"

"Just Ratchet."

"Just is a weird first name. Okay, okay, I'll stop. My name's Noinah. And see, we—Buz and I—lived out of the way, mindin' our own business. It was Buz who came home with that invitation not too long ago."

"Have you done competitive sports before?"

She shrugs. "Eh, battle royals and derbies for me. I got good at it too—well, enough to not die, you see. Then I had to take it easy when my health got a bit too bad, and, you know, getting older…"

"Man, you must be really old," says Skidd.

I sink in my seat and push myself away from the table a bit, expecting it to be flipped over at any moment. Noinah just silently stares at him with death in her eyes. Skidd calmly looks in another direction.

"...as I was saying," she continues. "After being settled down for a few years, now I feel like I can do a little somethin' somethin'. Been a while since I had fun."

She finishes her sentence with a cough; I then pick up a distinct noise, like someone in high heels was approaching. It comes from the stage.

A woman walks into view. She has burgundy colored fur, and her pure red eyes gaze out pleasantly from behind her thick rimmed, rosy glasses. Her ears are short and erect, and a pair of horns extends from the top of her head, curling far down her back.

"Hello!" she calls, coming front and center on the stage. Those weren't her shoes I heard, it was her hooves—and she taps one to the stage floor, making a loud enough noise to draw attention to her. "Can I get everyone's attention, please?"

It gets pin-drop quiet, fast. The lights in the room dim, leaving the stage illuminated. Clank and Noinah's partner, Buz, come and join us at the table.

The woman looks out across us all with a beaming face, holding her hands out. "Good afternoon, everyone, it's a pleasure to see you all here! Let me introduce myself. I'm Ophelia Tauron—you can call me Lia—and I am the event manager for the Big DEE events."

She folds her arms behind her back, her head swiveling slowly as she looks about the room. "I understand the invite promised the Director would be here today, and he will be, shortly. He's running a bit late—"

She pauses, and it's clear why. There's a pair of voices coming from outside, loud and abrasive. All the heads in the room turn around to face the doors.

They fly open, and a short man in a suit hurries in, his briefcase swinging dangerously from his hand. Qwark is glued to his backside, looming over him like a storm cloud.

"There's still no need to cry and moan to me about it every waking moment," the short man says haughtily. "It's on you that—"

"On me?!" Qwark shoots back. "How about you take a moment to acknowledge you're full of—"

"Karen! Copernicus!"

Ophelia's voice stops them dead in their tracks, and they shut up and look at her.

There's some snickering across the room, though I'm sure most of it's directed at the short guy. So that was Karen? I put a hand over my mouth to hide my smile. Clank shakes his head at me.

Karen sniffs a bit, composing himself with an easy smile. "My apologies, Ophelia, I was a bit distracted for a moment."

"Well, you've made fair time. I was just about to get past introducing myself," she says. "I'd say it's your turn. You too as well, Copernicus."

The businessman shoots Qwark a smug look. He goes over to a table by a window and sets his briefcase down…

Wait. There was another competitor here.

He had been sitting at that table, exchanging a nod and a low greeting with the businessman.

In the dark, his white tuxedo stands out. His yellow eyes shine like beacons; I have a feeling they would glow slightly in the light. He's stout in stature, has a cone shaped head and a long nose. He's covered in shaggy black hair from his head to his large, magnificent tail. Like mine, his legs don't touch the ground...maybe we were the same height?

While Karen and Qwark wander up to the stage, I nudge Skidd. "Hey, who's that over there?"

"Oh, him? Uh…he must be that Ravenda guy I've been hearing about," he shrugs. "Kinda off to himself sort of dude, isn't he?"

"He has no partner," Clank notes.

"Yeah…Buz, you've been flitting around speaking to folk," says Noinah, patting the little robot on the back. "I'm sure you already talked to him and know why he doesn't have help."

"No," Buz answers curiously. "I didn't even notice him until now."

Ravenda likely senses our eyes on him and tilts his head to the left slightly, looking back. I give him a slight nod, then turn my attention back to the stage. I still feel his eyes on the back of my head.

"My name," Karen speaks loudly from the stage, his voice swelling, "is Karen Menzoa. I wouldn't believe many of you would have heard of me before seeing my name on the invitation. I run a successful stock exchange company and own several private bussiness. I am also Rover Ravenda's agent. For the purpose of the games," he pauses, looking around airily. "I am the event spokesman."

His eyes slink to the side briefly at Qwark, who's standing at the side of the stage, visibly sulking.

"Now."

Menzoa holds up a finger, walking down the side of the stage.

"I'm sure Ophelia has touched upon this, but you may all be curious as to where the Director is! I assure you, he is simply doing a little quality control! He is doing quite well to make sure everything is of high standards, as it should be, and it also reflects in his decision in the choosing his event staff. Professionals, my dear friends, such as myself," he motions to Ophelia, "his close partner and fiancé, Ophelia Tauron. And his supervisor, Copernicus Qwark."

He stops and gives Qwark a polite smile, if polite meant smarmy-barely-disguised-as-politeness. Qwark looks as though he wants to commit murder then and there.

Menzoa holds his arms out, exclaiming, "I am in charge of promoting the brand to ensure that you, as competitors get the recognition you deserve! And why do you deserve it, you say? Simply because you've been chosen! Now, to pay the Director back for his decision of selecting each and every one of you, you all must contribute to making a good show! Here's how you can do it, folks, listen to me…"

Oh boy. Oh, boy.

I sink a bit in my seat, staring dully at him. I can already tell we'd be here for a while. This guy lives to talk and loves to do it, but I can't take this. My stomach growls a bit. What a time. It was probably going to be my twenty fourth birthday before I got to eat.

With a sigh I wave a waitress over to pop the bottle of wine in the middle of the table, getting myself a drink poured. "Thank you," I say quietly as Menzoa continues to ramble, leaning back in my seat and taking a sip.

Noinah gives breathy sigh, then snickers a bit at me. "You real funny for that, Sugar, but you got the right idea. He's talking too damn much."

Buz giggles slightly. "He just said it was his job to talk, Noinah."

"Hell, I don't care! We didn't come here to listen to a speech!"

I raise my hand lazily in agreement. I go on autopilot, my eyes focused on the stage, letting his words float by me. I've had practice drowning people out, considering I did live with someone who often went on tangents, ranging from analytical to zealous.

My eyes go unfocused from a mix of the wine and daydreaming. Across the table, Skidd's head is bobbing a bit as he begins to doze. Clank watches raptly.

Finally, Ophelia's voice breaks into my perception.

"Uh…thank you, but we have to move on, Karen," she says. The entire room seems to sigh in relief, reigniting with energy.

Menzoa looks a bit disappointed and reluctant but moves. All eyes are focused and on Ophelia again.

"Hey, I've got a question Ms. Tauron!" Too says, his hand shooting up.

"Yes, Too?"

"Where are we gonna be sleeping?"

"In a hotel, specifically for competitors," she says. "You will receive everything you need, all information and proper items, before the events, so don't worry. But that does bring up a fair point. I'd get used to the faces in this room. You'll all be sharing the same quarters."

"What?" Noinah speaks up, darting her eyes around. "You mean we gotta all share the same bed?"

The room is filled with snickering from guests to servers alike. Ophelia and Qwark chuckle along with us. Menzoa makes a face.

"No, Noinah…you're all in the same block, so you'll all be on the same floor. However, each team has their own suite. After all, the competition does span for a little over a week. And," Ophelia nods slightly. "even if a person is disqualified or retires, they can still chose to stay until the end of the events."

"So is there gonna be anything else interesting to do while we're there?" asks the smaller of the Kerchu.

"Well, you'll be able to go anywhere in the dome you please, so you have freedom. And, each floor does have a common area, a gym, and a personal mess hall."

"Wow," says Thing Wun, impressed, and expressing just about everyone's thoughts. "You rich, yeah?"

Ophelia simpers a bit. "It's…all been paid and managed for by the Director. He went through a lot of work to make sure all of you are comfortable and enjoy yourselves. Copernicus, did you have anything to say?"

"Well, even if I did, it's already been said," Qwark answers, just barely keeping his moodiness out of his voice. "I could mention I'm the supervisor, and helped create and organize all the events..."

"You, dude?" asks Skidd loudly.

"Yeah, stage design, general ideas, stuff like that," Qwark lists off, looking uncharacteristically modest.

"Yes, and what a very good job Copernicus has done," says Ophelia, giving him a kind smile. "So, while you're having fun, remember that he's the one you thank. He's also the one who helped decide most of—um, all of the competitors to invite."

"Yes," says Qwark.

"Heh, well, look at you, trying to play it off like it's nothing," I say, probably a bit louder than necessary. I was a tad bit drunk at the moment. "You go and do your thing, Qwark."

"Yeah, Qwark!" Skidd yells; there's a few more reassuring words and applause aimed in his direction, and he looks significantly happier. Karen seems a little bit miffed his professional speech hadn't been met with the same warmth.

"Alright," says Ophelia, when the noise dies down. "I think that's all that needs to be said at the moment—now's the time to actually do what we came here for."

"Eat?" Noinah roars.

"Of course!" says Ophelia, tapping her foot to the ground twice. As one, the waiters and waitress begin mobilizing at the tables, uncovering the platters. "And, if you want, break the ice a little bit as well—don't be shy, you'll be quite familiar with all competitors in this room soon enough."

The room turns bright again. "One last thing," says Ophelia, "The Director is on his way this very moment! He, and the rest of us on the event staff would like to entertain any thoughts or question you have now or later, so don't ever be shy with approaching any of us."

"Yeah, thanks Ms. Lia!" Too shouts, bounding up so fast his hat falls off his head and to the table.

As soon as I start to get up and grab something to eat, a ringing in my ear distracts me. It's Aphelion.

"Ratchet. You have a message…come out when you can."

She hangs up without waiting for me to respond. I freeze, partially standing, gripping the arms of my chair a bit hard. That was a bit strange; if she contacted me about a message, it was urgent enough…but to come out when I could? Maybe it was important but she didn't want to cause too much of a fuss by taking me away from the party.

Karen Menzoa passes our table, going to go sit with his client.

Skidd chuckles. "Poor guy. Having an agent is such a drag. See, too many of 'em don't care much for your wellbeing. Only for their clout, y'know?"

Across the room, Qwark lets out a loud, frustrated groan, dropping to his knees and pulling at his face. Ophelia stares at him in confusion.

"What the hell?" Noinah wonders.

"Ha ha! That 'c' word is a bane for him at the moment," says Clank, glancing over at Menzoa. "That man is definitely why Qwark was so upset when he came to visit us, Ratchet."

I eye Menzoa, who's now speaking to a waiter. Even when not on stage he speaks above the average volume and hardly any haughtiness has left his voice. He's very animated, head and shoulders moving here and there as he talks, and he loves to use his hands.

He reminds me plenty of Drek. It could have been his short stature. It could have been the air of importantness he has. It could have been the general feeling that he was an utter jackass.

It makes the distinction between him and his client even more glaring.

Ravenda sits there quietly next to Menzoa, staring out the window with a drink in hand as his agent loudly prattles nearby. I can't imagine how such a quiet and serious looking guy ended up with someone that obnoxious as an agent.

Buz starts her small wings up, making the air hum with noise as she hovers.

"Where'ya going, Bea?" asks Noinah.

"I'm going to go talk to him. Ravenda," says Buz, hovering in his direction.

I was too curious about what Aphelion had received, so I was going to check it out. I wobble slightly, steadying myself on the chair after a moment. Three, two, one...

"Ratchet," Clank speaks up. "Did you drink too much?"

"It was the only way to make it past Stacy's...I'm sorry, Karen's, inauguration speech," I answer with a grin, and Noinah bursts into a bout of wheezing laughter. But, I don't make it a single step before the doors to the banquet hall open.

A Cazar ducks in through the doorframe, straightening into the room with a cool, undisturbed expression. He wears an emerald uniform like the other guards, but his has more flair and screams, 'I'm the boss'.

"Is that the Director?" asks Noinah, her eyes wide. "That is a big son of a gun..."

"Guzman isn't a Cazar," says Skidd.

Clank is squinting a bit. "I see his tag. That is Kodiak, the Head of Security."

The Cazar carries himself boldly. His presence is enforced by the fact he towers well over everyone else. He has a doggish face, a grizzly complexion and heavyset brow that makes him look like he's got a permanent frown on his face.

"Alright, alright," he speaks firmly to the waiters and waitresses in his way, his voice hard. "Make way for the Director."

He walks in just enough, and the Director appears in the doorframe behind him.

I forget to breathe for a moment.

I shudder slightly, and my fur shoots up on end. Pangs of shock spread throughout my body, making my skin tingle. My stomach fills with a terrible dread; I can only stare, speechless, as the Director enters into the room, smiling and waving.

Slowly, I sink back into my seat as the Head of Security addresses the whole room.

"Good afternoon, folks. This is the Director of the events—I present to you, Mr. Guzman Vox!"


End file.
